


The Best Things in Life

by thinlizzy2



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Happy Sex, Post-Endgame, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-05-16 10:07:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19315987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinlizzy2/pseuds/thinlizzy2
Summary: After everything that he's been through, it's hard for Bucky to get used to the idea that his life can actually be good now.  Loving Shuri helps him open his mind to the possibility.





	The Best Things in Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladyjax](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyjax/gifts).



Bucky dreams of death. 

 

Not his own. He would prefer that. He’s died more than once now, and even in this latest, finest, incarnation of his life his own death is something that he thinks he could handle. No, he dreams of _her_ death, and that’s what makes him wake up with his heart pounding, cold sweat beading on his brow and panic gripping him tightly. He rubs at his eyes, trying to drive away the ghosts of the pictures that have ruined yet another night. 

 

The light in Shuri’s beautiful eyes going out. Her dark skin turning to ash and blowing away on the wind. Her brilliant mind reduced to dust and lost forever. Her sweet spirit simply gone. 

 

He shudders and pulls himself from the bed, careful not to disturb her. He knows he will not sleep again tonight. 

 

There is still some of Shuri’s bitter, lethal coffee in the pot from the previous day. Bucky heats a cup and takes it with him to the balcony. The sun is just coming up over Wakanda and the air is already heavy and hot. Bucky doesn’t mind that; after decades spent literally on ice the Wakandan heat feels like a gift. If anything, he wishes it were hotter; he wants to burn away the stubborn images that the night before has left with him. 

 

Once Shuri wakes up, it will be easier. Maybe they will go hiking in the mountains and he can lose himself in her chatter about the trees and rocks and their names and uses. Maybe they will swim in the deep forest pools and she can tell him about all the indigenous fish schooling around them while she presses her body, fish-supple and wet and strong, up against his. Possibly she will want to work and he can help her as much as he is able, recording and learning and monitoring while her incredible mind takes leaps and makes connections. Or perhaps they will just lie in bed and he will be able to feel her blood flowing through her veins and the pulse in her temple beating against his jaw and she will be _alive._ That would be enough to make this day a good one. 

 

He watches as a pair of cranes take flight, soaring over the tops of the jackalberry trees on their way to a watering hole. _Black-crowned cranes,_ Shuri’s voice pronounces in his head. _Balearica pavonina_. He remembers everything about the first time she taught him those words. Insects had hummed in various tones like a choir all around them as they lay flat on their bellies in the sweetgrass, binoculars and notebooks scattered by their sides like they were school children. Scientific classifications had turned to poetry on her tongue and he had wondered whose life he was leading and how much longer he could be so blessed. 

 

Sometimes it still seems amazing to him that a kid from Queens can wake up in the royal palace of Wakanda, look out over knobthorn trees and Molala palms and feel entirely at home. Considering everything his life has been, this should all feel like a minor miracle at best. But the knowledge that life can be kind – that still has the ability to shock him. 

 

“You couldn’t sleep?” Shuri is behind him, her voice still thick with slumber, her robe knotted loosely at her waist, and just her presence makes the fist around Bucky’s heart unclench itself. She is awake; she has survived to see another morning! Shuri is young, strong and healthy; none of that should be the least bit surprising. But Bucky has spent most of his life entombed in a world where death is a constant presence, and one that respects neither youth nor worthiness. He may never be able to simply take Shuri’s life for granted. 

 

“I slept a little.” He hands her his cup of coffee and she takes a deep drink before returning it to him. He adores this: the little unthinking acts of sharing that make up their love. Coffee, blankets, bodies, knowledge. “I didn’t want to wake you.” 

 

“You dreamed.” It’s not a question; she knows him well. “You had a nightmare again.” 

 

Bucky nods. “It’s okay though." He sometimes worries that she blames herself for not being able to chase away the dreams when she had otherwise fixed his mind. "It’s better, now that you’re up.” 

 

And Shuri smiles, taking his big hand in both of her smaller ones. “Come here.” She pulls him back towards the bed. “Come. I want to show you. I want you to remember.” 

 

Bucky knows this lesson well. It is one he has been taught countless times, ever since this new variation of his nightmares began. But like the ardent student that he never was as a boy, he is always eager for more. 

 

Shuri leads him to the very center of their bedroom. She turns on the lights as she moves and presses the button to raise the curtains. Sun comes spilling in, and warmth. There is nowhere to hide. She drops her robe to the floor, stepping away from the pool of fabric, and Bucky feels his breath catch. 

 

She is glorious, every time. 

 

He crushes her against him, toppling her backwards onto the bed as he strips his own clothes away. Her laughter turns to a moan as he runs his one living hand all over her body, taking in her long elegant neck, the curve of her spine, the long powerful muscles in her legs, her beautiful little breasts with nipples that are beginning to harden as he nibbles and sucks on them. This reaction has a name; she’s told it to him more than once. But words, science and language seem less important than the woman writhing under his touch, the fierceness of her kisses, the strength in her grasp as she clutches him against her. 

 

He has three fingers inside of her, twisting and rubbing with his thumb against her clit, when he finds himself suddenly flipped, flat onto his back, with Shuri astride him. There is a breathlessness in her voice that is part laughter and part arousal. “I told you.” Her voice is mock-admonishing, softened with a kiss. “ _I_ want to show _you._ ” 

 

He laughs in reply, lying back and letting her take the lead. They both moan as Shuri grinds herself against him, letting him feel that she is warm and wet and ready for him, and then he lets out a longer deeper groan as she slides him inside of herself. Shuri starts slow, with gentle little rocking moments, but the pull of desire in his belly and groin is too much to ignore for long. So soon she is riding him hard with his hands digging into her hips, lifting and dropping her onto his cock. They rock wildly against each other, climbing towards their shared high, and Bucky can barely hold back until he hears Shuri cry out. The sound is sweet and long and Bucky stares, spellbound, at her face as she thrills in the pleasure he is giving her. 

 

And that’s the only trigger he needs to come hard, a hoarse shout on his lips and stars exploding behind his eyelids. He’s boneless, slack with pleasure, barely able to muster the strength to wrap his arms around Shuri and gather her to him as she falls, sated and sighing, to the mattress beside him. 

 

“All right?” Shuri asks, her voice warm against his chest. 

 

“Better than that, I’d say.” He kisses the top of her head, and then her sweet lips when she turns her face up to meet him. 

 

She chuckles warmly. “Yes, I know. I was there. I mean _you._ Are you all right, love?” 

 

“Better than that,” Bucky says again. Giving in to the inevitable, he allows his eyes to close, letting himself believe that this time his dreams might be kind. “I’ve never felt more alive.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for ladyjax for Not Prime Time 2019.


End file.
